I call to you

like a belt buckle
straining to contain

the ever expanding flesh
rising from these appetizers

and meal proportions big enough
for three or four of us, or one of us

to keep in the refrigerator for a week
and nibble on until Sunday comes

and asks for our indulgence
in the fine art of abstinence.

A day spent in prayer
and hunger’s silence.

I call to you

afraid of your eyes
afraid of their twinkling

which suggests that perhaps
if the nighttime and the lighting

were just right that our inhibitions
could melt away or be convinced

and the body I inhabit, and the body
you inhabit could be melded into

one coiled up invitation sent
in howls of strained muscle

out of our apartment
into the divine.

I call to you

undeterred by your
snobby friends and

all their condescending
glances past me across

the parking lot, as if no boy
stood between them and the

entrance into their great obelisk
mall where they’ve come to pray

and trade dollars for scraps
of cloth dyed in myriad

colors to mask their
vacuous insides.

I call to you

like a radio, hoping
you will tune into

this frequency and listen
to my records spinning

and DJs teasing the edges
of humor and social decency

to lure you down this dial and hold
you for a brief moment in the faint

ambient green light of my voice
promising whatever you’d like

if you will stay here
with me and listen.

I call to you

because I have
nothing else to do

no purpose in life but
to live between your ears

or at least just out of earshot
and whispering a soft promise

of what could be if you were so
inclined to leave your apartment

and your automobile payments,
your mortgage and promise

of some greater life
in your sixties.

I call to you

like no one voice
or person ever will

no matter how much
you bribed and cajole

them to stay and hold you
no matter the meals you cook

nor lingerie donned to convince
them how sexy one human body

can be, if the light is just right
and the drink has taken over

and the inhibitions we hold
fall dead to the ground.

I call to you

and ask for nothing
not even for your ears

to listen nor for a response
as a payment for the services,

no I call for my own well being
and a purpose that requires no

acts be performed nor concepts
believed nor anyone’s allegiance

deference or acts of defiance
I am the tree in the woods

that does in deed fall
forever for you.

I call to you

and only to you
knowing you hear

and sometimes sing me
and too sometimes eat me

and at least on the days when
the other voices don’t call too loud

I know you reach out, bark back to me
in a show of your resistance or frustration

at the sad tiny life you’ve been given
and the sad life we have each held

and all the noise that stops
each of us from hearing.



A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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